Juvenile Nonsense: The Bluffton state of meteorology

I've decided that the selection of seasons available here in Bluffton just isn't enough. What are we in here, spring? Summer? If it's spring, why is it so darn hot? If it's summer, why don't I fit into my bathing suit yet like I promised myself I would?

The old pagan holdouts of spring, summer, winter and fall might do just fine for the rest of the world, but I for one don't want the rest of the world tell me whether or not it's sweater weather in Bluffton (and God forbid the federal government tells us it's sweater weather - there'd be immediate calls for a half-naked beach party in the Promenade).

Keeping in mind Bluffton works a little different from the rest of the hemisphere (possibly because of our protective layer of no-see-ums which scientists call the noseeumsphere), I put forth that the following seasons replace the traditional four.

DRYVEMBER

This is the season we are currently only just surviving. Dryvember is marked by sweltering-but-non-fatal hot temperatures that allow you to do some light gardening, but make keeping a pack of gum in your car hilariously unfeasible (I've actually had two packs of Juicy Fruit completely sublimate).

And as hot as it is, we never get a drop of rain. Visitors to Bluffton in Dryvember regularly remark on the way locals tend to spend the whole season staring up at the lack of clouds and shaking their fists angrily. Every once in a while, you'll see one try to spit at a passing cloud, with predictable results.

If you don't currently have a wilting field of dead Bermuda grass encircling your home, however, it's a lovely time of year.

SUMMEST (WRITTEN IN ALL CAPS)

Sum. Summer. Summest. You get the picture. It's written in all caps to underscore how face-meltingly hot it's about to get. Just don't go outside for a few weeks at this point, folks. If you do go outside, however, might we recommend setting up a Gold Bond stand and making a fortune off of Bluffton's many chafed thighs.

RAINUARY

This season comes in about two weeks when Bluffton, for all intents and purposes, turns into Seattle (minus the hippies). The skies, sick of having people shake their fists at them angrily, open up and really let us have it. Every once in a while (usually on a Tuesday) you'll see a 20-minute break in the downpour in which all of Bluffton's business for the week is transacted before locals scurry back to their homes and the deluge continues.

This season is also notable for bringing tourists, or so it is believed since no one can actually see them through all the rain.

INDECISIVUS

This is the season shortly after the rain stops and the people of Bluffton come down off their roofs. The weather begins to cool, but not all at once like you'd imagine it does, (assuming you spend your days imaging what weather does). Instead, the weather spends a few days being Minnesotesquely cold, then decides that it's Rainuary again, then goes back to Dryvember before putting Bluffton into a frost warning for a few nights. Scientists are baffled as to why that is, but informal research indicates the temperature fluctuates based on whether I have chosen to wear shorts that day.

BROWNTOBER

During Browntober, the bitter coin-flip of Indecisivus has left all of Bluffton's plant life in varying shades of brown. The upswing of all this is that it is still occasionally warm, albeit dry as a wine bar in Amish country. Those of us who transplanted here from the North (which is to say 95 percent of Bluffton's population) like to spend this time making jerk phone calls to family up north so they can say, "Whattya doing, Phil?" (This person's name is Phil, in keeping with Northern tradition of having boring names). "Aw, you're snowed in, huh? Bummer pal. Listen, I gotta go; we're firing up the barbecue. Yeah, we're going fishing later. Anyway, try not to lose any fingers."

SWEATER SEASON

I'm not trying to make any waves here, so I'll let you figure out when sweater season is.